Urban Mama

Back to School Must Have: Mabel's Labels

My five-year-old, aka the Schmoopette, and my two-year-old, aka the Schmoopadoo, are heading off to college kindergarten and preschool in just a couple of weeks. While I trust my daughter to distinguish what's hers and what's not, my little one has a speech delay and sometimes has a hard time communicating. Since his two-day twos program will be full of fellow grabby tots, I (and every other parent at the co-op) have been asked to label ALL his belongings.

Enter Mabel's Labels. I bought labels from them ages ago when the Schmoop went off to pre-school, but since then used a Sharpie or, more often than not, plain forgot to write anything in the older kids' backpacks, lunch boxes or clothes. It's no surprise, then, that the kids occasionally came home with the wrong coat, hat, water bottle or pencil box.

If my older two, who could talk circles around the chattiest of chatterboxes (I know, because I am one!), lost track of their stuff or didn't speak up when they were given someone else's things, how much more is my quiet two-year-old going to lose his little school supplies? But that's not gonna happen, because we have the Ultimate Back to School Combo, which comes with:

• 50 Tag Mates^™ 
• 40 Skinny-Minis^™
• 16 Shoe Labels
• 2 Teeny Tags^™

The Teeny Tags are perfect for pencil or lunch boxes; the shoe labels are self-explanatory and will especially come in handy for the Schmoopette's ballet slippers and tap shoes; the Tag Mates go on clothing tags; and the Skinny Minis can go anywhere from books, pencils, crayon boxes, Tupperware, water bottles, and you get the picture. Now I can send the Schmoopadoo to preschool with one less worry on my mind. But I'm fairly sure even that peace of mind will not keep me from crying when I drop him off that very first day. I predict it will be the first-timers and me crying, with the middle-child moms laughing at all of us!

The lovely folks at Mabel's Labels have agreed to send one of my lucky readers their own Ultimate Back to School Combo (retail price, $44). To enter, leave a comment by midnight E.T. on Friday, Aug. 27th. Share a time your kid accidentally lost something or came home with a classmate's belongings, because items weren't labeled. Or, if that's never happened, go to Mabel's Labels and tell me which design you'd choose for your kid's combo. One entry per person. I'll (randomly) choose a winner on Saturday, Aug. 28th.

Full disclosure: I received two review sets of the Ultimate Back to School Combo for the Schmoopadoo and the Schmoopette, who start pre-school twos and full-day kindergarten in two weeks. However, anyone who has ever met me (or any other movie critic, for that matter) knows that seeing or getting something for free doesn't mean I'll like it!

To My Son On His Second Birthday

"On the day that you were born, the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true..." --The Carpenters

Dear sweet, sweet baby,

You were a completely unexpected baby, just like your older siblings. Your father and I believed our family was complete. Then one night, a week after signing a contract for our first house, I felt so sick and tired, I demanded your dad run to the drug store across the street and buy me a pregnancy test. This was a familiar scene in our marriage, you see, and every time it played out, the ending was the same. Despite the incredible odds, I was pregnant.

We were scared at first -- really scared. Three children meant the kids would outnumber the parents. We weren't prepared for that possibility. But eight months later, while your brother and sister were off at preschool and kindergarten one Thursday morning, you were born in a birth tub in our basement. It was a quick and beautiful birth. For a moment I didn't know whether you were a boy or a girl, because I was holding on to you so tightly in a daze of happiness and relief.

When I asked the midwife if she knew, she looked at me quizzically and said: "I don't know. Turn the baby around, Sandie." There you were, in all of your boy glory, crying and confused.

Two years later, your father and I marvel every day at how special you are, how much you were needed to truly complete our family. You're a miracle, a joy, an old soul in a teeny body. You don't say much, it's true, but what you do say is meaningful: Mama. Dada. Cookie ("Goo-gie"). Chicken. Shoes. Pockets. SpongeBob (it was bound to happen in this house). Bath. Backpack, etc. You narrate our days in single words, and then you smile. It's lovely.

You love puzzles and can do two at a time. You only want to wear pants with pockets, so you can stuff them with random tiny things lying about the house. You know that when we go to Starbucks you can get a milk box and when we stop at the Suburban Trading Co. you'll get a cookie from the cashier named Ann. You bring me my iPhone and my glasses every morning and say "MAMA! Here!" You're my little traveling companion. You were my personal anti-depressant after your Abuela died, and you continue to be a source of joy for everyone in your family.

I wish your Abuela were alive to see the little boy you're developing into, because she would've loved to brag about you to all of her friends. I smile when I think of the last time I saw her alive, because you were there too, and she squeezed your six-month-old hands and called you Papito lindo.

Happy birthday, Schmoopadoo. Know that you are unconditionally loved.

Product of the Week: (Edible) LUSH Soap

Sometimes a crawling 11-month-old just can't be stopped. Yesterday while I was in the bathroom, I put baby J on the floor with some toys and left the door open, so he could still see me. Next thing I know, he's crawling into the bathroom to say hello. I chat with him a little bit and then watch him crawl up to the shower stall. Before I could say "Charmin," baby J had a mouthful of soap in his mouth.

LUSH's Porridge soap (left) has tiny little oats that fall off as you lather up, so my shower had a bunch of tiny pieces of soap lining it (I know, yuck, but I hadn't motivated myself to clean the shower and figured the pieces provided a nice little scrub for the soles of our feet). Realizing his little treat wasn't very tasty, baby J began to cry, creating a slobbery, sudsy mush around his mouth. By then, of course, I had washed my hands and was busy wiping his mouth. Thank goodness we use LUSH, which is made of natural ingredients, rather than some harsh, potentially toxic alternative. 

So, if you're like me and have a baby who loves to eat off of the floor, or if you're one of those old-school parents who employs the "Christmas Story" method of discipline, I recommend LUSH soap.

All of my LUSH soaps were paid for by yours truly, and my favorite kind is Honey I Washed the Kids

A Better Year

It should come of no surprise that 2008 was one of the worst years of my life. Starting in January, when Mami had her colostomy surgery that signaled the end, '08 will forever be The Year My Mother Died. Or The Year I Became An Orphan, take your pick. 

Mami's death will certainly overshadow almost everything else that happened last year -- almost, because in March of 2008 I gave birth to my third (and final! -- better give that an extra exclamation point: !) child. Despite the sorrow, I can't deny that Baby J a.k.a the Schmoopadoo is a little bundle of joy. I have many a time called him my personal anti-depressant. And he brought quite a few smiles to my mother's face in the final months of her life. That's a memory I shall treasure forever -- seeing her bony arms still able to embrace this baby boy of mine. 

Thank you, sweet baby, for being my constant companion, for cooing at your dying Abuela, for being such a joy.

Yesterday I sat next to a mother at the Schmoop's tae-kwan-do class. She had a gorgeous sapphire ring, and I complimented her on it. That simple compliment led to a 20-minute-long conversation about being motherless daughters. It was a profound connection, made amidst a sea of chirpy "Ai Yas!" and restless younger siblings wondering when the class would end. The new, instant friend told me I should feel blessed. Her mother died when she was 27, not even married yet, and Mami got to see get married and hold all my children.

What a beautiful perspective.

Thank you, Mami, for walking me down the aisle, for cradling and loving my three babies.

If my grieving heart allows, let me not focus on all that Mami will miss, but instead delight in everything she was present for, everything she experienced.

Thank you, new friend, for your wisdom, and for welcoming me into this awful club of motherless daughters.

Happy Half-Birthday!

As of September 13th, the Schmoopadoo is now six months old. Parenting, I've found, is full of clichés, so I'm not going to apologize for saying that I have no idea how the time passed so quickly. One moment he was a tiny, squirmy newborn with a shockingly full head of hair, and the next he's a chatty, drooly, grabby, smiley baby half way to his first birthday.

Oh, and yes, he still has a shockingly full head of hair. One friend told us he looks like a TV anchor, so one of our terms of endearment for him is "Ron Burgundy." You know, "Stay classy, San Diego."

The Schmoopadoo adores his siblings, even his overly loving, slightly smothering older sister.

No one makes him giggle as hard as his brother, the Schmoop.

His father's rendition of the "ABC" song brings him (and only him, I should add) more joy than almost anything else.

His teething ruins every outfit with a stream of drool, but he has no teeth yet

He's only fussy when he's hungry or sleepy... or in the car for too long. Truly. My firstborn cried more in his first week of life than the Schmoopadoo has in the past six months.

He's so quiet I've caught myself looking back at the infant mirror to make sure I actually put the baby in the carseat.

He's so easy-going I've taken him to nearly two dozen movie screenings since I started working again in July. He just sleeps or nurses or coos quietly. I know that won't keep up for much longer, but I haven't had to pump but four bottles for him since he was born.

He's the biggest surprise of my three surprise (on three different forms of birth control) pregnancies. When I found out I was pregnant, I never imagined saying this -- but I thank God every day that the IUD failed.

He's brought so much joy into our family of five that we finally feel complete.